Friday, January 29, 2021

Post #274 - January 21, 1944 This Morning I Had to Force Myself to Stand Up and The Yank Soldiers are Contributing Generously for the Sake of the Little “Blitz” Victims—and There Are Many


January 21, 1944

My Own, 

Yesterday I wrote 5 letters, one to you, to the American stores ordering my gifts for the coupons, to the Benis’, to Max Brown in answer to a recent postal ,and Gloria. After putting Adele to sleep (her noon nap), I went to Broad and 11th Sts. to shop. I looked for some handkerchiefs. They are sky-high and hard to get. I only got three inexpensive white ones that he had had in stock for some time. I am also sending a few others I had. I bought a dollar’s worth of stamps and a few groceries for Adele. I wrapped the package last night and will mail it either today or tomorrow. 

Adele has given me some unusually bad days this week and yesterday was a “killer diller.” She now has the practice of holding food in her mouth or throwing it up. She is getting into the “hitting” stage and generally speaking, can be a little terror at times. I was very weary last night and could hardly wait til I got into bed. My mother visited in the evening and I had to hang the clothes. I finally managed to hit the hay at 10:45. Did I sleep? NO I got up seven times, mind you, to put her on the toddy four times and change a wet diaper 3 times. Well, this morning I had to force myself to stand up. There are times that I get so doggone tired, I almost wish I wouldn't wake up. I'm “due” again and that is also largely due to my continued weariness.

Adele forced up most of her breakfast all over the place, and that was the last straw. I put her in bed and lay down myself. I might also add that she gets spanked more often. She gets out of hand with so many admirers to spoil her. Don't worry, sweet, she gets plenty of lovin’ from me, too. When she does something well, I make a whole fuss over it and love her up. When she does the opposite, she gets spanked. She knows what it means, too! She is getting wise and soon will be easier for me to manage. 

Yours of Jan. 3 was in the mail this morning. Where in Sam hill did you ever get the idea that I depend on your “winnings” for Adele’s and my keep? Me? I thought you knew me better. Furthermore, do you think I would give you the “go” signal if I did? That irked me and the fact that you decided not to send me anything in excess of $30 per month (if you had it) made me a little mad. I never had any intention, nor have I ever done so, of using whatever monies you may be able to send me for anything but savings, with the exception of the fur coat. The money you are using to play cards is our savings—so far. I sincerely hope I won't need it for anything else, and that too is why the money I earn helps. I think I have demonstrated in previous letters that I can spend when there is what to spend. I specifically stated that you were to hold any and all monies to do with as you choose. When I specifically requested, you had a large excess on hand, or perhaps, such as this month, I find myself unusually short or my desire to purchase some expensive item, did I want you to forward it. You always said you didn't want to save unless it was in large amounts. Well??? You once said I should buy what I want or need now as the money means less now than it will later. You are wrong. You don't get the full value of your money nor good quality of merchandise. I don't mind waiting for the things I want in life if I know I can have them. In this respect, I merely mean personal ownings. I want my own home and I expect you to get it for me when this mess is over. And there are plenty of things you’ll want, and if you’ll have the money saved, you'll get them. $110 per month is equal to $55 these days and it won't be enough to live on when this is over. We’ll be alone—on our own with the child to raise. Phil it's almost three years since we struggled to get on our feet. Now is the best opportunity and I'll never forgive you if you miff it. Perhaps you will do better when it is over, but, sweet, that's one chance I don't want to take. I'd like to know we got off to a head start. Forgive me, darling, if I seem to run away with myself. 

I was beginning to wonder if the proofs went astray. I think Wolpe is going to have fits at the delay, but who cares? I thought the serious pose had more to it than the others. You still think Adele pudgy? She isn't even chubby anymore. She is losing weight rapidly and is just right. I hope to use the film I bought shortly. I'm waiting for a warmer day so I won't have to bundle her up. I'd like to get one of her standing alone in a dress, as she is at present. She looks mighty cute in the nude. I don't think I'll be satisfied til I have a picture made by Pruett. I want to wait til she is steady on her feet. She walks nicely but has many spills. She kisses correctly now and when I tell her to kiss me—it's smack on the lips. It sure does feel good. I sure do feel for you at the loss of such a desire. Maybe soon, huh? Did I tell you that we were the only ones to gift Mom on Xmas? Ruth bought the house an Autodex, one of those plastic pod-like things to keep oft-used phone numbers. Harry said they couldn't afford to give gifts with the baby on the way. One minute he's overly generous, and the next he’s as tight as they come. He never runs true to form. 

Well, I “fell off”—I'm right back on the 28 day schedule. We received a letter from Jack S. that had been delivered to the wrong address. He keeps repeating that he is safe. He's doing guard duty and hopes to do something more interesting in the future. 

This evening I gave Adele her junket as usual, and she doesn't like it. I put the junket away and gave her a banana. As soon as she took the first bite, she started to rub her chest to make “ah-good.” 

Those oft-repeated words “I love you Phil” must serve again. 

Your Eve 

January 21, 1944. 

My Dearest,

Today was a typically quiet, uneventful one. Your V-mail of 10 Jan. arrived this afternoon together with a Xmas card from Ruthie and a letter from Dot. Dot’s letter, written on 22nd Dec., was a whole month in transit because she hadn't sent it Air-Mail—so don't ever get an idea about saving three cents a day on stamps. Something is being done about the mail situation you'll know if you've been reading the papers that the ETO is devoting exactly twice as much space on the plane to Air-mail—that's both coming and going—so I fully expect the deliveries to be  immeasurably more regular. 

I've been forgetting in my last few letters to make requests for those packages for the British kids that Ruthie has collected, but don't think it isn't important, Sweet, it is—more than you might think. The Yank soldiers are contributing generously for the sake of the little “blitz” victims—and there are many—too many—who have been left parent-less and home-less in this war. It is becoming quite the thing over here for a squadron or company, to adopt its “own” kid. That way there is a more personal interest in the tyke, and he has the the affection of many fathers. As you say, Sweet, a baby requires a lot of loving—the more, the better. Anyway, we are all trying to help in any way we can, and I'm sure the Chaplain can put those togs and goodies that Ruthie has been good enough to gather in the right little hands. So keep sending them along. 

I've asked Sgt. Murphy for a pass on 5 Feb. so that I can go ahead with my plans for meeting Eddie. I'm usually very busy the first three days of the month because of the “Soldiers’ Deposits.,” Ration Report, etc. Then, I am even busier from the 10th through the 15th or 16th with the Pay Roll. I don't know—at least I don't want to take the chance that Eddie might move again after that. So—the logical time for me to arrange a meeting is about the 5th Feb. The difficulty is, some of the fellas will be taking their furloughs then, and since we are only permitted a certain percentage absent, that may queer the deal. However, Sgt .Murphy has said that he will let me know in a few days whether or not it can be managed. Eddie is just about as far from London as I am, so that would be the logical place for our little reunion. 

And now, Baby, McFarlin and I are going to take a walk down to the Snack Bar for a “Nosh.” There really is very little to write about tonight, Sweet, but maybe I think of something by tomorroh-oh! just look how I tried to spell tomorrow t-o-m-o-r-r-o-w

Give my love and a great big kiss to my “petite fille.” My love to one and all. ’Bye now, darling. I love you. (Well, it's a pretty fancy love I feel for you—that's why! 

Your Phil 

Letter from Phil's cousin Phil, who has the same name. 

January 21st, 1944. 

My Dear Cousin Phil II: 

Where in the hell did you get the queer idea that I have an extreme distaste for writing letters? After being in the army as long as I have, one gets to enjoy receiving mail from his beloved ones, and how does one go about receiving mail? Yes, you guessed it, by writing. By this time, I honestly get a kick out of writing.Phil, did I knock that queer idea out of your head—(I hope). 

Phil my life in general hasn't changed much, in spite of the army. Still take a gym work-out twice a week. In fact, I'm writing this letter at the USO—in the same building. Just got through playing (3) three games of handball—and boy they are rip-masters. The boys I played with were New Yorkers, and in New York, everybody plays handball. The handball courts would be enough to bring me down here in Wash.—but thrown in with it are free eats, which usually consist of Jewish rye bread, (the kind you can really dig your teeth into) corned beef, baloney, knishes, etc.; nice girls to talk to, ping pong—and free writing paper and envelopes. Not bad, aye? Phil my feelings for your dear daughter are the same as my first letter—so I'm not going to repeat it all over again, but if you wish (and with my permission) you can reread my last letter about her. 

Phil, your family are all well—and like good Americans, are taking you boys being away in their stride—just like you'd expect them to. 

I'm still fortunate enough to see my beloved ones nearly every week, but of course no one can tell how long that will last, of course, when my present heaven on earth comes to a short lap, I'll take it in my stride like my cousin and brother “over there.” Phil no one can tell, but maybe someday I'll join you all over there. I'm enclosing Eddie's address—please write to him. He's in North Ireland. Ed writes that Harry Weinman is someplace near him. 

The following is a very funny story. Your wife was very thoughtful and sent Sidney Brown a little something. What, I don't know. Two weeks ago I and Em received a letter of thanks from him for a package he though sent. You see Phil he remembered that I once went with an Evelyn (Cohen) and he took for granted that my wife sent the package. I wrote to Sidney and straightened the whole thing out—so now everything is O.K. Well, Phil II, I'm gradually getting writer's cramp, so I'll say so long for a little while. 

Your Cousin Phil I. 

P.S. Phil did this little note convince you that I enjoy writing letters—contrary to what you thought?